


For All That Remains

by BaraPuppy



Category: Naruto
Genre: A completely self indulgent fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaraPuppy/pseuds/BaraPuppy
Summary: Zabuza rises and Kisame falls.  Somewhere in the middle of both, lies the desire for things neither has ever known. Of love, of lust, of power.  As for what is left, only time will tell.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Momochi Zabuza
Kudos: 2





	1. The Start of the End

_Huff huff_

He ran, the humid air hiding the path before him. But these streets were his home, his everything, and no matter how thick the mist became he would never lose his way. Now, if only he could lose the shopkeepers who shouted at him. The clicks of their shoes hitting stone told him that they were gaining ground and losing them would be as much of a challenge today as it was any other day.

_Huff huff_

Dog. Brat. Mutt. Runt. That was as true a name for him as his own; but no matter how much time passed, they still burned low in his throat like hot coals. His legs kept moving despite the pain, despite dodging the myriad of rocks thrown at his legs, his back, his head. He was close though, so close. Just a few feet ahead would lie a hole, dug out by his own two hands that lead to the other side of the marketplace fence and into the adjacent forest. Freedom.

_Huff hu-_

His foot slid into the slim crack between the pavements, taking with it his balance and any hope of a clean escape. Pain rippled up his body as his dark knees slammed into the ground beneath him and slid, skinning them. He extended his hands to try to stop his face from getting injured as well but they too were marking the clean marbled stone with blood. His escape lied before him, just an arm’s reach away. The breads he had taken from the stall rested right in front of the entrance, taunting him. Teasing him with its promises of a belly no longer aching from emptiness and a nights rest without an bruised body. For a moment, he still thought he could feel those simple pleasantries, if he could just…reach it. As soon as he felt the sharp sting in the back of his head, he knew that such dreams were just that, dreams.

Being beaten was common, as common as the mist in Kirigakure. Adults took no pity on children like him, low caste brats. The throbbing pain from the sticks hitting his head and limbs made him cry out in anger. The kicks to his stomach made the hollowness all the worse. Even when he wanted to throw up from the pain, all he got were dry heaves. He tried to trash and bite and scream at them but all it did was make then hit him harder. But it was better to fight back then not, lest he seem weak in front of any onlookers. 

They didn’t stop until he stopped moving, blood pooling around his face from his nose and his mouth. He felt dizzy and empty, but more than anything he felt frustrated. Tears burned his cut cheeks as he watched them grab the dirty bread, cursing him for wasting it, and walk away vowing to “not go so easy on him next time.”

He hated crying, but it was all he could do. All his body would allow as a cathartic release.

Zabuza stayed there on the hard ground until the ringing in his ears settled into a dull hum. He pulled his dirty shirt up to rub away the still sticky blood from his face. It stung as the dirt was rubbed into his lacerations. He took a deep breath and grimaced as the air that filled his lungs caused his bruised ribs to throb. He crawled over to the hole, sliding under the jagged wood fence and onto the soft dew covered grass on the other side. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

The burning on the back and sides of his head calmed slightly as the cool wet grass blades cradled him. He wanted to scream, thrash, fight and kill those shop keepers but he was hurt. He was tired. He was empty. So he laid there, cursing and wishing they would all die early deaths. He laid until it made him sick with inaction. Getting up, he decided to make his way to go back through the hole and back to the abandoned shack he called hom…

_Pap Pap_

The sound was close, but no one should be out here.

_Pap pap_

To be out here was a sure way to get robbed or killed, so what kid would be so foolish as to be here now.

The sounds of a ball hitting wet stone behind him commanded his body to turn in its direction. The blood that had begun to drip again on his upper lip felt cold on his skin as the wind whipped past him. His eyes caught sight of something just beyond the clearing. Inching closer cautiously, he ducked under some wild orange blossom bushes to view the source of the noise in safety. 

And there idling, inspecting its colorful temari, stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. 

It was like nothing he had heard of before in his short life, making him feel as though he should not be here looking upon it. The yukata it wore was patterned with softly colored morning glories, making its face all the more striking. A face that was full and soft, highlighting his position, well fed and well love from a family that could afford to. It’s plump cheeks were offset by three deep markings under its golden eyes. Gold like the rings of the daimyos, like the jewelry of their women, their men. Gold that lined their pockets and adorned the bodies of many a noble. A richness Zabuza knew nothing of but desired, craved, like a cold man to a fire. Those golden rings suddenly focused on him, making him feel both honored and embarrassed to be seen so clearly by eyes as stunning as those. His heart was beating hard in his gaunt chest, and whatever blood was not spilled earlier seemed to rush to his cheeks and ears. He wasn’t sure when he had moved out of his hiding spot nor when had started to make his way over to the creature, taking in how the light that peeked through the canopy made it’s blue tinted skin look ethereal. He wasn’t sure how his bruised and damaged body was even able to carry him, but there he was, limping towards it. It’s eyes were trained on him, unblinking and wide. There was no fear behind them, just surprise, maybe even amusement. When Zabuza stopped moving it turned to him and tilted it’s head, seeming curious as to what he was doing. The wind that blew gently around them ruffled it’s hair. It looked so soft, thought Zabuza. The desire to touch the creature’s silky tresses shoved its way past the bitter hunger in the pit of his stomach.

As soon as he reached his hand out and saw the creature’s eyes widen at the closing distance, a great gust hit Zabuza, causing him to clamp his eyes shut and block his face with his bloodied arm. When he opened them back up, the beautiful stranger was no longer there but instead a dark figure crouching before him, eyes wild and terrifying. It was massive, towering over him in its hunched position, resting its body on powerful thighs and calves that looked as if they could crush a person’s skull. Its face was shrouded in the shadows of an imposing weapon strapped to it’s back. All that shined were its steel cold eyes that bored holes into his. A shiver rattled his tiny frame as those eyes, not so unlike the ones he saw before, stared him down like a wolf at a helpless rabbit. The aura around the figure was drenched in bloodlust so intense, he started to shake uncontrollably. 

_H-uff huff_

The temperature around them dropped, and he could see his breath.

_It’s gonna to kill me!_

_It’s really gonna kill me,_ he thought as his breathing became short and ragged; lip quivering and teeth chattering at the realization.

He had never felt anything like it before, it was like…looking at a monster. It let out a low growl, causing Zabuza to whimper pathetically in response. 

_Move!_

_Move! Move!!_

His mind raced, every cell in his body screaming at him to run! But…he couldn’t. It bent lower, to look closer at his face. He tried to will his body to run but he was frozen. The figure snorted, seemingly at his gutless display. Just as it was done glaring at him, it picked its head up, looking away. He felt pathetic, weak, two things he most certainly was not. Things he swore he’d never be.

 _Always fight back_ , said a small voice in his head, _even if you lose, always fight back._

If he was going to die today, he was not going to die as helpless prey.

Slowly Zabuza curled back his lip, and bared his teeth at the beast before him.

The figures eyes widened and then narrowed at this change in demeanor, as if challenging him to keep it up if he was truly as brave as he was pretending to be right now. It let out another growl, with a more vicious edge. The terror that slinked its way up Zabuza’s spine was fighting his pride, pushed down by sheer will.

“Mama?”

A small voice pulled both of them out of their staring match. 

_Mama?_ Zabuza thought, looking past the figures massive frame to see the little creature behind it donning a confused pout on its cute face. Shooting a glance upwards he was surprised to see the monster’s eyes soften, lovingly regarding the little one. It made his heart ache in a familiar way, he did not know why. He threw his tiny fists up as soon as he heard the monster shift, but it’s focus was no longer on him and it ignored his sudden action in its entirety. It pivoted and cupped the beautiful creatures face in its large gloved hands and in a voice far too sweet for a person of such a terrifying disposition it cooed.

“It is alright little pup, you need never fear,” “Mama” whispered gently rubbing the little one’s cheeks with her thumbs.

She pulled the others face close to hers, nuzzling her forehead into its, “I will never let you be harmed.”

A smile crept across its face. Without another word and without looking back at him, she stood up and walked away.

“Come along, Kisame.”

 _Kisame._ So that’s what its name was? The child looked at Zabuza with an playful grin, showing off its sharp white teeth, turned and followed its mother. Her long legs making long strides that forced the child to trot just to keep up. Still frozen in place, Zabuza’s pounding heart sped up at the knowledge of its name.

He stared at the open air for a long while before limping his way back to the main road. The creatures face permanently etched into his mind and his heart.

* * *

That night, on the coarse straw floor of the dilapidated building he shared with other mutts, Zabuza made a decision. A decision he was determined to see come true.

“I’m gonna marry you, Kisame,” He spoke into the air, hoping the moon and stars heard him.

“No matter what, I’m gonna to marry you.”


	2. Alone Over You

He hated him. Like, really truly hated him. He wasn’t even sure how they had met but he regretted it ever since. He was a few years his senior and already a chunin, but acted like he was the Mizukage himself. But, in this moment, he needed him. He was not familiar with this neighborhood, and considering his placement in the caste system, he shouldn’t even be allowed through here. The graduation exams would never take place in the slums. So he needed him, to make him stand out less, to show him the safest way. But, he was not going to pretend to be grateful.

“And this place here has some decent curry, cheap and too salty if you ask me. But, I suppose to you it would be better than anything you’ve ever eaten” He said snidely, absentmindedly tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear.

Zabuza said nothing.

“You should be happy,” He hummed as if the silence had responded to him in Zabuza’s place, “I don’t normally help people like you, I suppose I’m feeling charitable today.”

“Yeah yeah, I heard you already Raiga.”

Zabuza tried his best to keep his irritation at undetectable levels but Raiga was just so…himself right now. Smug and rude and pompous and right. He was helping him, even if Zabuza himself didn’t want to admit it. He was helping in ways he knew the other understood and if given the chance, would lord over him for the rest of his life. For even now he could feel it. Eyes, all over him. Observing his every step further and further away from the world he grew up in. He didn’t belong here, and they knew it. However, Raiga was in essence his permit. Sure he could make his way over there by taking a different route but that was dangerous. The lives of the poor mattered not to the Kiri government aside from cheap cannon fodder, so going through the much safer streets with a “friend” was his best option. With him by his side he could come into the more affluent parts of Kiri without worrying about being chased away or worse…caught and sold. If anything did happen, all the great Raiga Kurosuki would have to do was wave his delicate mid-caste hand and say the other was his servant and all would be well. But he hated this fact, and hated Raiga for being all too willing to “help” him. 

“So…why do you want to see the graduation exams again? Its not like you could ever be a shinobi.”

What he wouldn’t give to just be able to pounce and beat on Raiga for just a few minutes. To be a shinobi was Zabuza’s ultimate goal, right behind his new dreams of marriage. He knew he could be a great ninja, one people would respect. Granted that would be a ways off since he was still too young to graduate. Not that Raiga would ever know, the first person Zabuza would like to kill and have their head put on a stake would be him.

“I want to see…the Mizukage.”

“Really? Jeez, that’s so sad! You can’t achieve anything but you want to still see it? How pathetic, in a sweet simple sort of sense.“

He growled at that last part but quickly pushed Raiga’s shrill voice out of his head and tried to focus on the real reason he was headed to the exams. He wanted to see him; Kisame. 

Being on the streets meant that information was easy to spread and easy to hear about. It wasn’t smart to ask so directly, lest it cause any tension that could end with him being killed. All it took was a few idle questions to other low caste children for his inquiry to reach the ears of at least one knowledgeable adult. It took quite a bit of patience but eventually he heard a group of farmers talk about them, the Hoshigaki clan. The name rang a bell with him but, he knew nothing of them. The way the farmers spoke of them however, of their intimidating height and terrifying demeanor, was like they were describing Kisame’s “Mama” to a T. He was already intrigued by their words but then the conversation shifted. They quietly murmured of how some generations a rare child is born, one who looks like “some type of sea god”. One stated that such a person was now amongst them, a young boy. That was what really caught Zabuza’s attention. That sounded like the child, just like Kisame. He ran to them and pestered them about the details of where he could find the clan. After much yelling and threatening, they cautiously told him that they lived somewhere to the north west, on an island far from the mainland. The clan was known to be very private and not one of the farmers even knew which island it was let alone their traveling habits. Still they told him that they did come inland many a time to go to markets or complete missions. They were also a clan who apparently frequented the graduation exams despite not having to engage in them themselves. Zabuza told himself that if he wanted to see the child again, this would be as good a place to start as any. He hoped that this would mean Kisame would be there, he wanted to see him again. He wondered if he would remember him, even have an ounce of recollection for him. He hoped he would.

“Come on,” Raiga barked, snapping Zabuza out of his daydreams.

Looking up he could see the massive structure, all concrete and stone. A stadium. The temperate climate coupled with the high humidity and mist made for perfect grounds for vegetation to grow; unhindered up its sides and around its base. Raiga took them off the pathway, descending down a field just behind the edifice. A “secret entrance” he proclaimed, pointing to its side.

He smile slyly at him, “Think of this as a doggy door.” 

Zabuza wanted to strangle him and leave his body to rot. Still, he slid down and pulled the thick brush away from the hole in the wall, a hole that seemed to have been repaired multiple times but cheaply, leaving it vulnerable to weather damage. He was thin and could slide past the dirt and cobwebs; wriggling through the slim entrance with relative ease. Raiga, however, chose to meet him on the other side, trying to avoid getting dirty. His head popped out into an empty hall, with Raiga standing just above him. They scurried past guards and contestants to an oddly empty section, closest to the fighting arena. The cobble walls were tall and both he and Raiga clawed their way up and over to get a better view.

He struggled to lift his head above the barriers, his chin resting uncomfortably on the jagged edges. He slid his feet up and down the wall hoping for any kind of purchase, finally finding some in stress cracks scatted all over. Over the edge, he could see the field was already painted with blood soaked earth. In the center stood two people. A girl, pretty but bruised and bleeding. She was shaking and fighting to stay upright from all the blood loss. Her left leg was useless, the bone clearly broken and the flesh torn. A wind release, Zabuza presumed, blasted through her soft tissue and fractured the bone beneath. The other, a boy, was slightly taller, older maybe; head bleeding profusely with a deep cut extending from his chin to his eyebrow. The wound split his face, the swelling causing the flesh to pull away from itself. He would be blind in that eye…if he survived. His midsection was exposed and covered in deep red splotches, hemorrhaging under the skin. He was wheezing. It was messy to look at, but stirred something in him. Something that grew and made him shiver. Their blood looked so shiny, he wanted to touch it. At the sound of jeers and calls for action he looked up and surveyed the crowd. There were so many people. It made him wonder for a moment if all these people would be back to see him participate in the future. If they would see him dripping in blood. If he would have the blood of his opponent soaked into his clothes too. The thoughts made him dizzy.

It looked as though lower caste people sat closer to the arena while those above superseded them in both seating and social standing. Up high, sitting shoulder to shoulder amongst the theatrical Nobles, sat a group that stayed surprisingly still and silent. Their lack of reaction to the gruesome condition of the participants perturbed him. Squinting, however, a familiar color caught his eye. And there, leaning over the edge just as Zabuza was doing, was Kisame.

He was still as beautiful as he remembered, that toothy grin still plastered on his round face. He was perched on the lap of his Mama no doubt, a dark cloth resting over his head like a veil, obscuring him from being viewed by others. Some of the adults seated around them wore darkly veiled uchikatsugi like in the case of his mama, while others did not. He wondered who they were. A frustrated roar pulled him from the group and back to the fight at hand.

She was moving fast, her thin legs trying to push her body to dodge the kunai aimed for her heart. He was relentless, the fear of death urging him to abandon all sense of decorum and technique. The shuriken he pulled out flew in all directions, his wind release triggering them to spin fast enough to sever an arm. Still, she kept on her toes despite the obvious pain it was causing her. An attempt to scale the wall forced her leg to give out suddenly and she fell to the world below with an excruciating howl. He took this as his chance to finish her. His chance to survive.

He ran, a kunai in either hand, to jam them into her anyway he could. She just laid there, clutching her leg. Zabuza was sure this was her end. But, just as a disappointed sigh slipped from Raiga’s lips, she sprung up and while balancing on her arms, used her good leg to land a kick square in his sternum, sending him flying. The moment his back slammed on the floor she jumped and in her hands Zabuza could see it clearly; she wasn’t clutching her leg back there in pain, she was obscuring a katana she had picked up off the ground and had been waiting for her moment to strike. She came down on him with an uncontrollable ferocity. It plunged into the side of his neck with such a force that the blade snapped at its median. The other end lodging itself into the very wall Raiga stood behind. Blood spurted forth like a geyser, spitting in the young kunoichi’s eye and hair. He tried to scream, to claw at her face and chest, but all that came from his mouth were sickening gurgles. His hands slid from her body to his split open neck, finger weakly trying to apply pressure to the bleeding. He whimpered and cried, all the while trying to close the wound, to get away, to live. He was trying so hard to live. But it was over as soon as it began and his terror filled eyes went blank, his shaky hands sliding gently away to rest at his chest. All was still for what felt like a lifetime. Slowly the young girl stood up, and in one hard pull dislodged the blade, sending blood flying in its wake. In that moment, Zabuza looked up at Kisame. His golden eyes were as wide as the moon, the red droplets reflecting like rubies in his shimmering gaze. He looked in awe as the blood danced in the air like petals in the wind. He was fixated on them, and Zabuza was fixated on him. Even as the crowds cheered the kunoichi’s win, Zabuza couldn’t tear his eyes from Kisame. He wanted to be seen like that. He wanted him to look at him like that, enthralled and overcome. It was blood, brutality, and savagery that caught his heart and if that’s what it took, then that’s what he was going to do. He would paint the streets with blood to see him like that again.

He let go of the wall and ran off, ignoring Raiga’s calls for an explanation. Zabuza always knew he would be a ninja, had to be if he wanted to escape the miserable reality that waited for him if he remained on the streets. But Kisame made it something else. He let out breathy laughs and cackles as he raced through the roads, deaf to all but the pounding in his chest. Kisame made him want more, survival no longer the standard. He made pride of the country take second place to becoming the most vicious shinobi to ever come out of Kiri. He had to do it, to show him he was something to be seen. Ripping back the straw door Zabuza fell to his knees before an off colored tatami mat square. Perhaps it was childish, selfish, maybe even part of him was just looking for an excuse to do this to people who meant nothing to him. Dislodging the square, he looked upon his meager belongings. But whatever the reason, the excitement that twisted his stomach was relentless. He shuffled through his things, pausing when his fingers rested on the sharp edges of his kunai. He wanted this. He flopped back and laid there, and planned. As soon as he got the chance, as soon as an opening presented itself, he would prove it.

* * *

The sun never really shined that afternoon, the mist was so thick that it still appeared to be in the wee hours of the day. Their sensei had walked off, needed to be briefed on some classified information he surmised. The academy itself was silent and empty, the other classes having gone off to train and learn in the nearby fields, leaving only the oldest class behind. It truly was a perfect day to die.

As soon as his blade plunged into a small chest, sliding between the ribs and right into a lung, a timer went off in Zabuza’s head. To kill as many as he could as fast he could. 

They ran. Small feet tripping on the soft wet dirt, giving him extra time to pin them down. Tears streamed down the cheeks of every face that was able to come into focus in his blurry vision. They all screamed and cried. Cried for their mommies and daddies and for god. God.

He really was doing them a favor. To still believe in a god here? In this world? In this village? Fools. They were too foolish to be allowed to live any longer. 

But he was not in the business of doing any of them any favors; whether god or even the village thanked him for this was irrelevant. He was doing this for him. And, if he was being honest, for himself too.

It was fun, so much fun. He hoped he would feel it too. The rush as he was feeling now.

_Are you watching?_

_Are you happy?_

_Did your eyes light up?_

_Did you see?_

_Did you see what I did, Kisame?_


	3. Remember What You Came For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda headcanon heavy, just fyi!

His mind buzzed in the early hours as his alarm pierced the quiet morning air.

It rung loudly, dragging his sleep heavy head from his dream.

The blood that caked his hands those years ago still made him shiver to this day. It felt so weighted back then. It slowed his blade. If there was anything he wished he could’ve changed about that day it would’ve been to have a kunai with a rougher grip, maybe even a sharper edge to have made his blows cleaner. But cleaner hits wouldn’t have been half as fun to inflict. There was joy in the brutality, joy in watching their eyes roll. Their small frames going limp underneath him.

He rested there as the sun rose up over the mountains and peaked through the trees atop the taller buildings, just reveling in what he had done, and where it had now gotten him. 

His apartment was far nicer than anything he had lived in before, clean and spacious. He had a weekly stipend and access the exact parts of town he at one time needed Raiga to chaperone him in. The people still sucked, still regarded him rudely when they thought he wasn’t looking. But, now when he reacted; glared back, snarled, or even just moved suddenly, they recoiled. They were scared of him, and he loved it. Scared by even the mention of his name; Zabuza Momochi. Even the women of the red light districts would hold tense smiles when he would join other shinobi for drinks. They would warily crawl close to him, sake served by shaking hands and it wasn’t uncommon for them to trip all over themselves trying to get away when he would grin at them. The whole spectacle made him laugh with the utmost cruelty. He couldn’t deny, he only really went just to watching them squirm like all the others. 

The years had not been kind to his childhood resolution however. The boy he had done this for no longer held his heart. He did think of him now and again but not as frequently , nor as longingly. It seemed strange to feel that way after all he had done to get as close as he could to him. Stranger still seeing as how all of this was as a result of that desired closeness. After he was arrested for the slaying of the graduating class, he was beaten and interrogated for hours. They kept his head tied to his hands so he couldn’t look up. They struck him for what felt like an eternity but was more than likely for only an hour or so. He blacked out often but remembered having his head pushed into water a few times and struggling as the liquid filled his lungs. The rest was all just a blur of misery and hopelessness. It was only after quite some time that everyone left and all that remained was a single man. His massive shadow engulfed Zabuza’s already malnourished form. The chakra that seeped from and surrounded him mirrored the urine that pooled around Zabuza’s knees. His bloodlust was so intense it terrified Zabuza, almost as badly as Kisame’s mama…almost. The only difference being that the man here now didn’t seem to want to kill him, unlike that woman. He wanted to run but he was too tired. He was so tired and in so much pain. The man spoke in a mellow tone, recounting the names and manners of death the children he killed had suffered through. It sounded almost playful but he knew better, and the confusing ease caused him to shake. Zabuza barely listened, still drifting in and out of consciousness as he continued. The blood loss and pain made it so hard to hear him, so hard to focus on his words. Still, something slipped through to him as his eyelids became heavy and awareness trickled away.

“From now on, you belong to me. You won’t have to worry anymore about classes and the like, you are a chunin now and you will begin going out on missions as soon as you can walk again. And, if by chance, you somehow manage to survive long enough to become a jonin, we will meet again.”

_A chunin_

_Him?_

The next time he woke up he was in the hospital, and just as the figure said, as soon as he was up and moving he was assigned to two C-ranked missions back to back with no time to revisit the village for at least 2 weeks. He was also fast tracked into the Hidden Mist’s ANBU, which worked him to the bone. Those missions were offset by the constant nightmares about that interrogation. Still, he trudged those grueling missions with little rest; the thoughts of seeing Kisame and finding out more about him keeping him going. He worked hard and gradually the ranking of the missions increased, and with them came the loosening of sealed files and lips.

He learned about the clan’s social structure. The Hoshigakis are a high caste matriarchal clan, with a strict hierarchy based on whether or not one was born under the main branch and their closeness to some mythical ancestral deity . Apparently, as of late there had been some internal strife over the future abdication of the current matriarch and the clan was split over which of her 3 daughters would take over after her. However, the most interesting information was on social expectations. Take the rules on gender roles for example. 

Men in their ranks were not permitted much leeway; they were predominantly seen as caregivers not warriors. They were responsible for child rearing, while the women were in charge of maintaining the clans power and influence in Mist politics. He was told that when they are young, all children are trained the same and must perform in front of private proctors to pass on to be chunin, circumventing the traditional graduation exams entirely. All done so that everyone can defend themselves; but as they grow older, the rules of their genders come into play. As such, it was uncommon for most men to join shinobi ranks or missions once they reached a certain age and instead were expected to stay home and raise the next generations. Still, it was also rare for Hoshigaki women to be in traditional shinobi teams either. They stuck close to one another and the only times one of them would be caught alone was on the rare solo mission or to be on the front lines of wars where teams no longer matter. They were a warring family, much like the Kaguya, but unlike them, they knew that their strength was as much a benefit as it was a weakness. They did not show their power unless requested and when it was not needed, they hid away on those north western islands, allowing for their clan to persist through time. The Mist government itself seemed to agree with this method, seeing as how no matter how close his missions brought him to them, there is always a rule in place to never engage. On the off chance he had enough time to disobey those orders, the closest he could get was in the waters a few meters out, but no further in.

That meant that the likelihood of Zabuza coming across Kisame again was slim to none. This notion bothered him less and less as the days turned into weeks and months and years, and as the missions dragged him further and further away from his humble beginnings. The thoughts of him became harder and harder to bring to the forefront.

As a child, one loves many things, and in that love, those things are given greater weight than is warranted he believed. 

He did not love Kisame.

How could he?

He didn’t know a single thing about him. 

Sure he was infatuated with him once, but that as merely puppy love, if one could even call it that. So after many years, he left that memory and that love behind, no longer needing it in this world. It limited him, caged him. Love was a liability. It would only seek to hold him back. 

He tapped the peg on top of the alarm, ceasing its irritating screams. Yes, it was all behind him now. He had a mission to get to, and he hoped that with this one under his belt, he could finally advance to become a jonin, and meet the person who spoked to him that day so long ago.

He stretched languidly and lazily picked up the file that laid on the table. His new assignment. Looking back over the mission list, his mind wondered back to when it was first presented to him. He had his choice: to join Raiga and another jonin on an A-ranked intelligence mission into the Land of Fire or join two chunin’s who’s names he deliberately didn’t hear on a B-ranked recovery mission for a scroll that was stolen by a defector. Regardless of his disdain for Raiga, his bloodlust normally would’ve forced him into enlist with him. But as of late, he had changed, and upsettingly so.

He, like Zabuza, had seen his fair share of deaths as a child. Not once had any of them affected the boy at the time. He would sigh or even comment on how pathetic some deaths were to him. He seemed to enjoy watching the violence just as much as he did. And yet, the minute he graduated, the minute he was given a mission where he had to kill another with his own hands, he became a stranger to him. That smug bratty smile that once appeared permanently plastered on his haughty face, was wiped away. In its stead was a serious look, as if every action threw him deep into his own mind, so far down that no one could get him to come back out. If Zabuza looked hard, far harder than any Mist shinobi every would without getting into a fight, he would swear he could see sadness behind those cobalt blue eyes. Genuine sadness, as if the person he killed, his enemy, was his own mother. But the moment Raiga registered the presence of the other, he would lash out. No longer with the fog of arrogance clouding every word, no, these days his words were clear and cut deep. He told Zabuza he would kill him, and for the first time, he believed him. It only seemed to get worse when he heard that Raiga was being scouted to join the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. Since then, he stayed away from the other, not out of fear, but out of confusion. Anyone who would change their tune as quickly as Raiga had was dangerous to be around. So here he was, heading out of the village entrance to meet on his new “teammates”.

The side eyes from the guards did not phase him, but the growl of “brat” under one of their breathes sure did get on his nerves. Still he didn’t slow his stride. Red light women were one thing, but trained jonin were another matter. Even stepping out of place could undo everything he had worked for. He was still heavily scrutinized for his past actions so he wasn’t going to press his luck even if they were pressing theirs. He stood just out of earshot of the guards. He fixed his gaze on a small garden snake cautiously wriggling through the morning dew covered blades of grass. It moved so so slowly.

* * *

They were late.

He felt his jaw clench in irritation. These punks had some nerve making him wait on their sorry asses. Who the fuck did they think he was?

He decided to wait further out, as the holes being bore into the back of his head by the guards at the gate were starting to annoy him. He sat on an unearthed tree and continued to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait some more until his back started to feel stiff from the uncomfortable seating and…

A slender hand gingerly touched the small of his back, calling his attention to the bright red that filled his vision. Mei Terumi’s beautiful face peaked out from behind the long silky strands, her cheeky grin putting him at immediate ease. Her hand didn’t cease its contact, rather it trailed up his spine as she leaned into him. She was one of the few “friends” he had, met her when she was paired with him on a mission a few months back. The minute she laid eyes on him, her hands were all over him. She asked him for his hand in marriage before she asked his name and this was so amusing to him that he knew that she would forever hold a special spot in his heart. Even after she learned his name and no doubt heard what he had done, she didn’t change her behavior, as if what he did was nothing more than an ugly rumor. He learned quickly through the mission that Mei was as much joking as she was serious with him. It was hard to tell the difference at first but he got the hang of her humor rather quickly. Despite her teasing, he liked her company, and while the hand delicately messing with his collar seemed tempting, the way she shoved at his chest when he tried to return the action told him she was just messing with him again. She snorted at his attempt, knowing full well he was messing with her too. In the back of his head he wondered if this was what real love felt like? Not at all the same as what he felt for Kisame years ago, but something else, something different. He like it, and he liked her; that fiery little devil. She was always like this with him, but not so with their other teammate. Glaring at them from the trees above stood Ao; a man with short blue hair and even shorter patience. 

When it came to him, that feisty flirt was snarky and short, making sure to make plain that she held no feelings of even facetious attraction to him. Even as he would warn her to be serious during their mission, she would snarl and tell him that a woman like her would never take the advice of man unless she had lost her senses. Zabuza, always the contrarian, would agree and goad her on, happily reveling him her beratement of Ao. But the man had an ace up his sleeves that he pulled out only when he could tolerate her attitude no longer. 

“No man alive would marry a woman as rotten as you…”

The first time he said that, Zabuza mentally disagreed. The power and unapologetic way by which she lived her life in his eyes, made her absolutely irresistible, even if it was not enough to convince him to marry her. But the sudden shift in the world around him made him silent and still. Her hair flared and ruffled like a hyena and her entire demeanor changed. Despite being his ace, the fear on his face told Zabuza that not even Ao was prepared for the consequences of unleashing it. Low behind the howl of wind he heard her murmur.

“Never marry…no man would…marry…”

The rest was a blur, all he really remembered from that time was waking up to the entire field being scorched and Ao laying on the ground out cold and the entire mission being considered a failure since the target has fled seeing Mei’s terrifying power.

As Mei pulled away and went back to sticking her tongue out at Ao for ruining her fun, Zabuza looked out onto the road hoping that this mission wouldn’t be a repeat of that. His reputation couldn’t take it.

* * *

The mission went about as well as he expected; he did most of the heavy lifting with Ao despite the boy getting in his way more often than not. Mei; however, would go and take the glory. In all the fighting she was able to slip by, behead the weakened defector, and snag the scroll from his belt. The problem was that apparently it wasn’t just him but several defectors who had all congregated in this winding underground tunnel system and it just so happened that one of those other defectors was a lot more powerful than their original target. He singlehandedly collapsed the tunnels with an earth release; crushing the rest of the defectors that chose to flee, forcing Zabuza and his team out and back to the surface to regroup. This was the reason why the trio now stood with their backs to the trees, panting like worn out dogs, bodies aching from trying to dodge all the falling rubble. He could tell by Ao’s and Mei’s expressions that they would rather run from here since they had what they came here for. But he knew better, fleeing would signal that they were going to head back to the village. That was a risk he could tell this man was not willing to take and the moment they would turn to run, he would hunt them down. There was no escape, this man would have to die here and now if there was to be any hope of them making it out of here alive. Zabuza took one last deep breath to slow his heart rate and pounced, curve bladed kunai in hand. 

He managed to place a foot in the grass before a sudden rush of intense chakra disrupted his brash assault, throwing off his rhythm and timing. The defector moved out of range of his strike easily due to this error. Zabuza gritted his teeth and charged after the man, but not before a bright glint from behind caught his periphery. He turned just in time to see a large object fly straight at him with frightening speed. The weapon cut through the air with such force it seemed to push the trees apart giving it a direct line to its target. Zabuza tried to run but knew deep in his soul that he could not outrun this. So he threw himself to the ground and hoped it would fly past him.

The blade sunk deep into the earth right beside his head. He laid still as the ground beneath him shook violently. The shinobi who threw it ran after the man with speed that made him feel like his eyes had played a trick on him. Looking up to his side he could see the shape of the blade more clearly and immediately he felt his heart sink.

The executioners blade, kubikiribocho. He had heard of it before along with the village’s other infamous swords in the academy but it was so much more terrifying being face to face with it. His breathing was painfully loud in his own ears but the urge to grab it was overwhelming. It called to him, made him feel giddy. He had to touch it, just had to. As soon as the thought to move his hand came into his head he saw someone’s feet land right by the blade. He froze.

He heard a man laugh as the blade was wrenched from the dirt. Zabuza quickly got to his feet just to see him turning to the others who waited for his return.

“You make too much of a mess for my liking brat,” the short bearded man chided, throwing the massive hammer and axe, Kabutowari, on his back.

“And you take too much time for my liking you old fool,” The man with the executioner’s blade teased.

His stomach twisted.

That voice…

That fucking voice.

He knew that voice!

It filled him with dread and anxiety. He knew, it had to be him. It had to be. The man who spoke to him in the interrogation room!

“ _From now on, you belong to me_.”

He was thrust back into the cold dark stone room. His skin aching like it did back then, the bruises seeming to bloom once more on his body.

_“If you somehow survive long enough to become a jonin, we will meet again.”_

He felt Mei brush up against him. He didn’t even hear her walk over.

“Who’s that,” he asked, tying to keep his voice steady so as not to alert her to his deteriorating mental state.

“Who…the one with the tattoos? That’s Juuzou Biwa.”

Juuzou Biwa….the name felt repulsive on his tongue. That was him, the one who haunted his thoughts at night and set all this into motion. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or furious that he had done that to him, for him. He sure in the hell wasn’t going to thank him. The man turned to look back. They made eye contact. He felt his skin crawl. Zabuza would never admit to feeling scared in that moment…even if it was true.

He wanted to kill him.

For scaring him then.

For scaring him now.

He wanted him dead, but after today he knew he was not ready to be a jonin, let alone take on this beast. He would need to work harder, smarter to reach him. He would survive till he became a jonin and when that day comes, he would be ready. Ready to meet him again.

**Author's Note:**

> First self-indulgent fic! Thank you for reading! I will try to update as often as I can ☆


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